


Tired for so long.

by ilostmyothersock



Series: With the tide. [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Depression, Eating Disorders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 11:46:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25849030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilostmyothersock/pseuds/ilostmyothersock
Summary: Summary: Sometimes Nicky finds existing inexplicably hard.Technically backstory to "For everyone but you"?TW: Basically undiagnosed depression/description of a depressive episode, disordered eating, weight loss (and the usual blood).
Series: With the tide. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1884397
Comments: 16
Kudos: 284





	Tired for so long.

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr under the same name. Mind the TW.

Sometimes Andy sees the signs before Joe does. Joe wonders if it’s his own fault for not _wanting_ to see the signs - if he subconsciously wants Nicky to be okay so badly that he doesn’t notice when he first starts slipping, that he writes it off as isolated bad days, and not the beginning of something.

He catches Andy sneaking worried glances at Nicky enough times to make him suspicious, though, so when she casually suggests they take a break, lie low for a bit, Joe knows. His mind puts together all of the subtle clues, the little actions that spell out that something is _not quite right_ (because Nicky always maintains that nothing is actually _wrong_ ).

Even with Andy’s suggestion, Nicky stubbornly puts forward one more mission, insisting that it’s important, refusing to acknowledge Andy and Joe’s concerned looks, never commenting on their insistence that he actually sit down with them at meals (even if he’ll only manage to pick at his food), brushing off their gentle, worried touches.

There isn’t much to Nicky on a good day, his build naturally slender, his body lean, but Joe sees the weight fall off with every avoided or half-eaten meal, sees the bruises under his eyes grow deeper with every sleepless night. He sees how, no matter how much Nicky tries to smile and keep going, things are just... _hard_.

When Nicky goes to pull off his bloody, ruined t-shirt when they get home from yet another messy gunfight, Joe cringes at how he can see the outline of every one of his ribs and every ridge of his spine as he leans over to pull clean clothes out of his bag for after his shower. Seeing Nicky’s hands tremble as he straightens, even that small change in elevation making him dizzy, Joe knows that there is no more avoiding this. They need a break.

Over dinner, as Nicky stares at his plate absently, pushing the small serving of risotto that he had begrudgingly allowed Joe to give him around in circles (risotto that Nicky himself had made fresh, the glorious aroma of which had made Joe’s mouth water before it was even served) Joe catches Andy’s eye, and knows she’s in agreement.

They’re in England, only a few hours’ drive from a cottage by the sea that has always been one of Nicky’s favourites. As they put away their plates, trying not to hover over Nicky who has still taken no more than three bites of his dinner, no longer even trying to keep up the pretence of being interested in it, Joe quietly makes the suggestion. Andy murmurs her assent.

They take some time to clean up the safe house (coming back years later to spoiled food and unwashed, bloodstained clothes is something they try to avoid whenever possible), and Joe attempts to coax Nicky into drinking some tea with a generous serving of honey. He is mostly successful, until Nicky is left unattended while they are cleaning and Joe comes back to see that he has given up and abandoned the unfinished, now cold tea on the table. With a sigh, Joe washes and dries the last mug, and they are on their way.

\---

As fresh as the air is, as quiet as the countryside is, as quaint as the house is, nothing seems to change with their new location other than the fact that Nicky can no longer hide behind the stress and urgency of missions. 

He stops trying to maintain the illusion that everything is fine, and starts spending hours sitting on the beach alone. Sometimes Joe will join him, but sometimes his silence will be so stony, the look in his eyes so distant that Joe will need to step away, not wanting to let Nicky see as the overwhelming feeling of helplessness drives him to tears. He stops coming to the table for meals - he’ll shake his head, mumbling something about being tired, or not hungry, or not in the mood, and will inevitably wander off to be alone. What Joe had hoped would be some quiet time to recharge becomes tense, lonely, and empty (even with all three of them living in the same house), and Joe wonders if maybe taking a break was the wrong idea.

As he and Andy eat yet another dinner alone, he knows that something has to give. So, after he finishes putting away a plate for Nicky in the (probably vain) hope that he will come looking for leftovers, he makes his way out to the beach. It’s where Nicky is most likely to be, when he can’t be found inside.

Sure enough Nicky is there, sitting hunched over on a log with his toes in the sand. His t-shirt hangs loosely on his frame, the fabric fluttering in the wind blowing off the water. Joe walks up to stand beside him, clearing his throat. Nicky tilts his head slightly in his direction, but doesn’t meet his eyes.

“What did you eat today, Nicolò?”

Nicky shrugs, turning back to stare at the waves.

“And yesterday?”

Nicky doesn’t move, continuing to look out into the distance, his eyes unfocussed. Joe sighs, coming to stand in front of him, crouching until he is directly in Nicky’s line of sight, putting his hand on Nicky’s cheek, trying to make him meet his gaze.

Nicky does, but only for a fleeting moment before he turns his eyes down to the log he is sitting on, and the peeling bark he has been picking at absentmindedly. He grabs at a dry leaf, ripping it away before crumbling it in his hand and letting the wind catch the pieces.

“Nicky, you’re hurting yourself.” Joe’s voice is pleading.

“It won’t kill me, Joe,” Nicky responds tiredly. "It can't."

Joe blinks away tears, bringing his hand up to run his fingers through Nicky’s fine hair.

“Just because it won’t kill you doesn’t mean it doesn’t kill _me_ to watch you do this to yourself.”

“I’m not doing anything.”

“I know. _I know_ , my heart, and that’s the problem.” A gust of cool evening wind makes Nicky shiver. Joe quickly pulls off his coat, tucking it around Nicky’s thin shoulders. He cups his hand around Nicky’s cheek. “You don’t eat, you don’t sleep...”

“I do.”

“You _don’t_. Do you really think I can’t tell the difference between when you fall asleep in my arms and when you lie awake all night, tense and restless?”

Nicky shrugs a shoulder halfheartedly.

“Besides - you didn’t even come to bed last night.”

Nicky shrugs again. Joe sighs, sitting down heavily beside him on the log. He turns his head and rests his chin briefly on Nicky’s shoulder, pressing a kiss to his neck before putting an arm around him and pulling him in close.

“We’ve been here before, my love.” Nicky nods minutely, his hair tickling Joe’s chin, but he doesn’t say anything. It breaks Joe’s heart, but he knows - _we’ll be here again_.


End file.
